


biscuit (something we will never see again)

by onebreathyboi



Category: Left 4 Dead (Video Games)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Gore, Guns, Injury, Internalized Homophobia, Keith is mentioned, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Nick Has An Ex Wife, No Sex, Pining, Protective Rochelle, Special Infected, Zombies, his accent is really strong, i love ellis, soft, the entire thing is based off of two tumblr posts, this took me like forever to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:20:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23592235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onebreathyboi/pseuds/onebreathyboi
Summary: Nick and Ellis finally realized amid the literal end of the world that maybe the only thing to life isn't what you've been taught but instead what you make of it.Just my favourite boys pining. Oh and kissing.
Relationships: Ellis/Nick (Left 4 Dead)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	biscuit (something we will never see again)

**Author's Note:**

> https://soundcloud.com/user-632116521/nick-helping-ellis  
> I based almost the whole thing from this one audio clip. thats it

Running through hordes of oncoming zombies in a storm for the ages was the last thing Ellis wanted to do. The only positive was clinging to Nicks hand, gripping the conman for dear life as he drags him away from the sound of a jockey. The group knew that Ellis seemed to be a magnet for the special infected and actively steered him away from all sounds of one. Despite their best efforts, a boomer upchucked his dinner all over the hick, causing the older man to grip his hand and sprint as the horde barreled their way to them.

The safe house was in sight, Coach and Rochelle fighting off the zombies behind the running men from the doorway of their temporary haven, holding the door open as they watch their friends escape from the crowd. With Nicks death grip on his hand, Ellis is pulled through his boomer vomit blindness, shoving back the arms beating on him as they sprint. 

“Almost there, killer!” Nick shouted over the noises, not turning his head back to see the zombies after the kid. 

A verbal grunt confirmed that Ellis heard him but was too preoccupied to formulate a sentence. The boomer puke still clogging the essential senses, he blindly trusts the conmans guidance. He’s pulled into the safe house before the door is barred shut by Coach. Rochelle quickly finds a rag to wipe the bile off his face, holding it as he spits it out of his mouth and wipes it out of his eyes.

He searches for Nick as soon as his eyes are clear, intent on giving the older survivor a hug. He spots him pacing in the corner, opting to get up and wrap his arms around his back.

“Thank ya, Nick,” he says, face pressed into his shoulder blades, southern drawl vibrating against his back.

Nick says nothing for awhile, enjoying the physical attention from the younger man. The others look away and busy their hands while they share an intimate moment. 

Coach returns from scouting the safe house with some pain pills from the cabinet before saying, “There’s only two beds. We’re gonna have to share. Me and Rochelle and Ellis and Nick?” 

Hearing no immediate complaints, he heads off to scavenge the cupboard before fixing the cans of beans he found. Ellis unlatched himself from Nicks back even without hearing him say anything, the unsteady falls of his chest sign enough that he didn’t want to be bothered anymore. Ellis rubbed his back before putting his hands on his knees and hoisting himself up with a crack of his hips.

“Ya know, bein ‘stuck ina’ storm kinda reminds me of tha’ time me ‘nd my buddy Keith were stuck in a hurricane. Poor bastard almost drowned, stupid sonofabitch. Sure was funny though, sure was,” Ellis rambled on, scooping the beans into his mouth. He went to laugh at his own jokes before being reminded of the smokers’ tongue-shaped bruises along his torso. He let out a wheeze as he stretched his arms up, the Bull Shifter t-shirt riding up in the process. 

Nicks eyes had turned to him instead of the wall sometime during the retelling of his stories, before focusing on the dirty patch of skin as he lifted it up slightly. His train of thoughts about Ellis slammed to a halt as Coach called the last watch of sleeping before lumbering off to one of the beds. Rochelle followed him and said she’d take third watch, leaving the option of first and second to the men. 

Ellis looked at Nick and knew to take the second watch, as Nick preferred a night of uninterrupted sleep. The both walked around the house before finding the second bed Coach mentioned. The hick sluggishly took off the dirty coveralls tied around his waist before stripping off and folding the bloody yellow shirt. Left in only his camo green boxers, he flopped into bed unashamed of his body in front of Nick. 

He groaned out, “‘M sorry if I make ya uncomfortable with my boxers, ‘can always put the coveralls back on.” 

Nick shook his head and slipped out of the ratty white suit coat with shaky hands before tossing it on the ground near Ellis’s neat pile of clothing. Struggling to unbutton his blue dress shirt, he takes off the pants instead and leaves the shirt on to take watch. He doesn’t expect Ellis to tentatively step up to him after he’d settled into bed, though. 

“I can take that off ya, if yew don’ mind,” he mentions, accent thick and slurred with exhaustion, before opting to reach out and undo the older mans buttons himself.

The conman stays still as the hillbilly slips the buttons out of their holders, letting the surprisingly gentle fingers swiftly pull the shirt off. Ellis falls over from his half leaning half lying positions after taking the dirty shirt off. Nick checked his breathing and concluded he had just passed out from exhaustion, putting his hands on his knees to start the locking up process before taking his watch for the crafty special infected.

After three hours of constant watch, a couple spitters trying to dissolve the door, Nick returns to the bed with the sleeping hick, shaking him awake as gently as he can. Ellis stirs, looking with half-opened eyes at the half-naked conman standing over him. He quickly reaches for the shotgun on the floor but is stopped by a rough hand grabbing onto his wrist.

“Nothing’s wrong, just your turn for watch kiddo,” He says with a caring voice, taking his hand away from the younger man as he calms down.

As he clambers out of bed to put on his boots, he notices Nick’s state of undress. He laughs under his breath, causing Nick to turn and look at him over his shoulder. 

“Nick,” he says, “did ya really go through the whole watch in yer underwear?”

Nick opens his mouth to respond, but he cuts him off to add, “It’d be okay if ya did, jus’ wonderin’ if ah could do it too?”

There’s a pause as Nick shimmies under the dirty covers, pulling them over his torso after slipping his feet in. “Go ahead, tiger. No one’s there to tell you to put clothes on. Just join me in bed when you’re done with watch.”

He rambles as he near instantly falls asleep on the mattress, the itchy foam a blessing in the wake of cement flooring and couches. Ellis nods and picks up the shotgun to stake the door in his boxers, blushing slightly at the prospect of sleeping next to Nick with barely any clothing.

A quick three hours later with only one hunter scratching at the door to get in, he wakes Rochelle before scrambling back off to the bed that his slight crush is in, sleeping soundly, unaware of the guilty pining of the younger man. I mean, _who in their right mind would be thinking anything about love during the literal zombie apocalypse?_ These thoughts plagued the mechanic as soon as any kindling of feelings reared its head, especially for a man. The devout catholic community he grew up discouraging any homosexual thoughts, claiming to love another man as a man as a sin. 

He would never admit to anyone that his first kiss was with his best buddy Keith before all the accidents that messed him up. Back when Keith was a handsome young guy and they were just two drunk country bumpkins, one of which had never had his first kiss. The humid night around a campfire in the backwoods plus the four beers in his underage system persuaded Ellis to let Keith be his first kiss. It was when Keith slipped a hand up his shirt that he backed away from his buddy. They went back to relaxing easily and Keith conveniently forgot the entire ordeal the next morning.

Now standing above the bed holding a sleeping man, he was afraid to slip under the covers and next to the warm body. He took off his boots again and slowly removed the covers to position his body under them, trying hard to stay at least two inches away from Nick. Eventually the sweet shroud of sleep overtook his tired body, forcing the two bodies together by the gravity of the bed dip.

Sometime throughout the night Nick’s arm wound up wrapped around Ellis’s waist, Nick’s breath beating against the back of the younger man’s neck, a nightmare enveloping his thoughts. 

_The rain beating down on them with reckless abandon, the Earth herself trying to rid herself of the humans plaguing her back. Rochelle had just killed the smoker constricting Coach, off to kill the hunter pinning Ellis to the ground as Nick fights a horde away from them in an attempt to push the hunter off of Ellis. The shrieks were the worst part as the claws of the hunter ripped into the intestinal cavity of the mechanic._

_“Get this thang offa’ me! Help! Bastard is tearin’ inta me!”_

_Blood spilling out of his mouth as he forms sentences, spitting out as he coughs when the hunter tears into his lungs. Rochelle isn’t going to reach the hunter in time, stuck fighting the horde Nick has been pushing back for what seems like forever._

_“Ahhhh! Fuckin’ leave me!” Thick red liquid finds itself everywhere around Ellis, dotted along his face as he spits out words telling the team to retreat._

_“I got it! Run!”_

_Before anyone can decipher what he means, a pipe bomb is in his hands, beeping its zombie attracting beep. Ellis looks over into the eyes of his team, remorse clear in the blues the boy has, before yelling, “Pipe bomb out!”_

_The pipe bomb never leaves his hand though, and Rochelle is forced to drag herself and Nick away from rescuing Ellis._

_Nick screams as Coach grabs his wrist and pulls them all to the safe house that was in sight._

_“There’s nothing we can do for him, just let him die a hero!” Coach booms into the ear of the screaming man before throwing them all into the safe room as an explosion goes off outside._

_The sounds of screaming stops, and rain fills the tense silence. Coach lets go of Nick as soon as he locks up the door._

_Nick takes a deep breath as he turns around to Coach and Rochelle, eyes hard._

_“You left him! You guys fucking left him! Bastards!” He yells, voice venomous, as he beats on the wall before sinking to the ground with tears. “You guys left him.”  
There’s a hand on his back that he shrugs off before breaking into a sob, the death of their youngest member settling in on them all. _

Nick startles awake with a scream as he pops up to check the bed beside him. He sees Ellis there alive, awake now too with a shotgun in his hand at Nicks scream. Rochelle bursts in with her gun ready, Coach still sleeping in the next room over. Wild eyes swing around the room before settling on Ellis fully. He wraps his arms around the younger man regardless of their state of dress. 

“Shit, I lost you there, kid,” he shudders out a tear and watches Rochelle leave the room out of the corner of his eye, to give them privacy or to check to see if he alerted anything, he’ll never know.

“You didn’ lose me there. Yer never gonna lose me,” he says with a sleepy smile and thick drawl before setting the shotgun down and slipping back under the dirty covers. Nick sits at the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Since when did he care about the annoying hick so much? When did he realize Ellis dying was worse than his own death? Why in god's name did he wish that it was him who died, and not Ellis?

The thoughts would have plagued him through night had he not been exhausted on the journey the day before. He slipped back under the covers with Ellis, this time actively draping his arm over his hips and pulling him closer. Unbeknownst to the conman, the hick was awake before falling asleep in the warm embrace.

-  
-

The sounds of the world when the sun came up in the morning wasn’t birds or the hustle of life, instead it was the eerie silence broken only by the rustle of trees and the shamble of zombies. The birds were gone and the cars broken down as nature slowly started to retake the Earth. Rochelle came to wake up the men, only to find them in a tangled embrace. Ellis had his arm on Nick's hip and his face in the older man's chest, with the conmans arm on his waist and his leg trapping in the hillbilly. She walks to the bed and quickly hits the mattress with her foot and startles the men awake.

They both reach for their guns before noticing the situation of limbs they have found themselves in. They look away from each other and untangle their bodies before reaching for their clothes instead of their guns. Rochelle let out a hearty laugh before closing the door and walking away. 

“So, are we gonna talk ‘bout that?” Ellis asks in a small voice, so unlike the normal boisterous tone he usually sports. It takes Nick a second to realize he really is talking to some over a decade younger than him. A kid. A hick who likely hasn’t had many of his firsts in his god-fearing town, let alone with a man.

“Yeah, killer, we will.” He says it in a low voice as he pulls his tattered white suit pants on and leans to grab his folded blue shirt. He pulls it over his shoulders slowly, careful of the jockey bruises there from earlier in their journey. He struggles with the buttons before Ellis silently walks over still in his underwear and buttons them swiftly, eyes staring intently at the buttons and only the buttons. Nick lifts his hand to bring Ellis’s chin up, looking straight into his blue eyes.

The redneck averts his gaze before Nick applies more force to his chin, silently demanding to be looked at. 

“We will talk about it, don’t be like this.” Ellis said nothing and nodded as Nick let his face go and he finished buttoning up his shirt. He moved quickly to pull on his Bull Shifters shirt, wincing at the smoker shaped tongue bruises, and coveralls, tying them around his waist and slipping his boots on his feet. When he was done he sat on the bed and waited for Nick to wrangle on his jacket and muddy leather shoes. 

The gambler sat down next to the hick, looking at his shoes before turning to Ellis. 

“Now, kid, I know you haven’t been with a man, or anyone for that matter,” there was a nod of confirmation, “what are you thinking in that hick head of yours, tiger?”

Ellis stops and takes a minute to process what he was asked. Isn’t this talk supposed to be about how Nick doesn’t like men, especially not country bumpkins and definitely not in the apocalypse?

“Well, uh, I don’ really know. When ah look atcha, all ah can think is that yer someone I wanna protect, an’ I really wanna kiss ya when ya save me, an’ God forgive me, ah don’ know,” it’s a rushed and rambled confession, one fit for the silent and cold morning. Nick nods his head and takes a deep breath. He leans over to kiss Ellis on the mouth, and waits until he relaxes into it before putting more pressure onto his mouth, pushing him back lightly on the dusty bed. 

Nick pulls back when Ellis’s head hits the mattress, a cloud of dust pillowing around them. There’s a flush in the young man's face and he looks away from the conman with his torso on top of his own, pinned to the bed. A smile litters his face as overcast light streams in from the cracks in the boarded window. Ellis bolts up and hits Nick square in the chin with his chin before running off to find whatever bathroom the safehouse has. 

“Oh I’m going to kill that hick!” He yells as he grips his chin and chases after wherever the hick is hiding. He finds Rochelle guarding the door of the makeshift bathroom with her gun within reach. 

“Rochelle, move from the door. I need to talk to the kid,” though domineering in his voice and stance Rochelle doesn’t flinch from the door, instead puffing her chest to make her smaller form seem bigger.

“Not until you tell me what this is about. What did you do to hurt him?” The ever-protective Rochelle keeping Ellis safe out of reach. The one time he needed to have a proper conversation with the kid.

“Me and him need to talk about things and you don’t need to know what they are,” He says as the door behind her pushes open to reveal a meek-looking Ellis. He avoids Nicks gaze but fully comes out of the bathroom before looking at him and motioning to follow him back. Nick doesn’t say anything as he follows Ellis, only throwing a look that screams ‘I won’ to Rochelle. In return she throws him a dirty look back as they disappear to where they slept.

“So, killer, what the fuck was that about?” Nick asks as Ellis sits down on the bed though he remains standing. Ellis hesitates and hesitates until several minutes have passed since they arrived in the room. The gambler opened his mouth to say something before the hick looked up at him with tears streaming down his face.

“I-I don’ know what ta do. My ma always’ said this ain't okay an’ that two men ain’t meant to be together,” he brings a dirty hand to his face and rubs the tears and the dirt around, “what am ah supposed ta feel?” He puts his face in his hands and his shoulders shake, the light sobs escaping him as he fights his own demons inside and not just out.

“Kid-- I don’t know either. I had a wife who hated me and I hated before all this because that’s what everyone said to do. They told me I needed to be married by thirty with a trophy wife and a perfect kid. It’s alright if you don’t know what to do, I don’t either. But we can figure it out. We’ve got the rest of our lives, whether that be tomorrow or when this whole thing is done and over.” Tears spill out of his eyes too and he sits next to Ellis on the bed, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and pulling the sobbing boy into his chest.

Ellis presses his face into Nick's jacket and weeps into his chest, Nick laying his face in the dirty hair of the young man and crying silently. They didn’t say anything for a while, soaking in the presence of the other. Rochelle knocked sometime later, the sunlight streaming through the boards now in a different place on the floor.

“We’ve got to get going soon. Pack yourselves up and meet us in a couple minutes.” The simple directions are spoken through the door to give the men privacy. Nick kisses the greasy hair on the smaller man's head before pulling himself back and straightening his jacket. He stands and offers a hand to pull up Ellis off the bed. He takes the hand and lets himself be pulled up and into the arms of Nick.

He plants a kiss on the hicks forehead before reaching for his gun and pistol and sliding them into his leather belt. Ellis takes a moment to recover then grabs his shotgun and chainsaw. They take one look at each other before pushing the door open to join Rochelle and Coach. Rochelle smacks Coach and mumbles something to him, offering the boys the last of the beans to eat before they leave.

Taking the offer, they grab some water spotted spoons and dig in, a comfortable silence surrounding them all. It takes almost no time for the beans to be gone and everyone to be ready to start off and survive another day again. There are overcast clouds in the sky, reducing the glare of the sun but making the zombies more active in the cooler weather. They left some supplies for other survivors before locking the door and leaving their message of the military facility location before setting out again.

-  
-

The clouds became darker and darker as the day went on, rain drizzling down until it developed into a storm. Unsure of where they would stop for the night, the group kept moving as the downpour brought the zombies out from hiding. A smoker wrapped itself around Rochelle as the wind whipped fiercely, Coach scrambling to shoot the smoker before it choked her to death and quickly battling the horde back. Ellis shot a hunter leaping for Coach and smiled as its body ragdolled in the air.

Nick switched to his pistols as his machine gun ran out of ammo, firing bullets from the dual guns into the undead. 

“We need to run! We won’t make it otherwise!” Rochelle yelled over to rain to the men, hearing loud exclaims of agreement from the group. They huddled in a circle and drilled a hole in the horde to run through, quickly taking the opportunity to slip through the crowd. 

As they were running through the pile of walking rotting bodies a zombie caught Ellis’s foot, causing him to stumble and fall face first into the ground. An agonised grunt alerted the group to his struggle as they ran, turning to shoot the zombie off him and continue their escape. Nick grabbed Ellis by the hand, less gentle than he had in the morning.

“C’mon tiger we have to go!” He only nodded and hobbled up onto his good ankle, putting an arm around Nick's shoulders as the conman wrapped one around his waist and started on again. Ellis leaned heavily on his shoulder, both men wincing from old and new bruises but keeping forward as Coach and Rochelle handled the horde behind them.

There was a light in the distance, the barred door of a safehouse filling the group with hope. They sped up their pace when a Spitter emerged from the bushes, tossing acid straight on the path they needed to take forward. Coach quickly shot it and watched its corpse tumble to the ground in a pile of goo.

“We’re gonna hafta go through it!” Coach yelled before settling his face in a grimace and grunting as the corrosive substance ate through his shoes. Rochelle grunted as she trudged through the goo, leaving Nick and Ellis to walk slowly through it. Both men yelled in pain as they struggled to stay upright, gritting their teeth and taking careful steps. Once on the other side they shamble-ran to the door, quickly unlatching the handle before the acid dried up and the zombies could follow them.

The group sprinted inside and shut the door, replacing the bar before sitting down. Coach, the least injured of all, set looking for any unsecure points in the safehouse, along with rooms to sleep in. Rochelle looked for supplies with a slight wince in her step before opening a cabinet filled with first aid kits. She threw one to Ellis and one to Nick before taking her own and settling to treat her bruises and burns.

Ellis unwound his arm from Nick's shoulder, the gambler following by unlatching his arm from the hicks waist. The bumpkin sat and grimaced as he leaned down to roll up his coverall pants, the old smoker bruises throbbing. Nick grabbed his wrist gently and pulled up the pant leg himself untying and taking off his boot in the process. He sucked in a breath at the damage to the joint before opening the kit and looking for the instant ice pack.

“Alright kid, this is going to hurt real bad,” that was the only warning given as the ice was applied to the wound. He spit a curse and a prayer before untensing his body and trying not to wince. Nick applied burn cream to his feet and lower legs before digging into his own kit and doing the same for himself. 

“C’mon champ, let's get you on your feet, you’ll be okay,” Nick said as he pushed his battered body up and held a hand for Ellis, hoisting him up and essentially carrying to the room Coach pointed at. Ellis looked sheepishly away and tried supporting himself on his good leg as they stumbled to the dirty room. Nick opened the door with a kick, the untreated wood giving in to the force. 

The conman set him down on the unkempt bed lightly. He leaned down to take off Ellis’s other boot, setting it on the ground before taking off his own muddy and burnt shoes and joining the hick on the bed. 

“Listen, Nick, ah’-” Ellis was cut off as Nick lept for his lips and shut him up. 

“Quiet, killer, I’ll look for food with Coach,” he said as he pulled away, standing up shakily to search for something still in date. Ellis sat on the bed stunned into silence, opting to wait for Nick to return with something to fill his stomach.

A few minutes later he came back with green beans and tomato soup and two sporks. Ellis pointed at the soup and was silently handed the can and spork. Nick sat on the bed and opened his mouth before the redneck could get a chance. 

“I’m glad you’re alive, El,” it was the closest Nick had come to saying his name in a while. That was the only thing said as they dug into their food like starving men. When the cans were finished Ellis shakily pulled off his coveralls and Bull Shifter shirt, laying down on the crusty mattress.

“We sure are close, ain’t we?” Ellis said as he stared at the ceiling and rested his hands on his stomach. Nick only nodded before standing up and heading to call first watch for himself and second watch for Ellis as usual. He came back quickly and took the suit jacket and shirt off himself this time, fingers less shaky as the jockey bruises heal. He unbuckled his belt and took off his pants, folding them and clad in only his boxers.

Neither man made any sort of move, Nick simply grabbing his new gun and heading to keep watch. The hick was asleep before the door even closed on the way out.

-  
-

The next morning was rough for every member of the team. The Georgian air wet with humidity, the previous nights injuries now sore as the adrenaline had worn off. Ellis nearly cried in pain as he stood up, his ankle purple and blue and his chest yellow in a tongue pattern. He woke to find Nick's arm caging him to the wall, a human protective barrier against harm. He would smile at the memory from only minutes ago if his body wasn’t screaming at him to sit down. He stepped forward, clutching the wall for support and shuffling his way to the make-shift kitchen.

The rest of the group was up and eating, rewrapping wounds from the night before or eating breakfast. Nick looked up from his healthy breakfast of canned corn.

“I told you to stay in bed, champ,” he says as he helps Ellis to a chair, handing him an unopened can of beets and moving to check his ankle. Nick winced as he looked at the injury, digging into a first aid kit nearby and pulling out wrapping to put on his joint. Nick handed Ellis a couple of ibuprofen and set to patching his leg. 

He just smiled and grimaced, “Wanted ta see y’all’s faces, I ain’t hurt too bad,” the ever optimistic youngster said as he opened the beets and tipped a few into his mouth. 

“So, the fuck goin’ on between you two?” Coach asked brazenly, Rochelle whipping around to smack the back of his head. The two men just looked away and continued their tasks, dancing around the question and pretending as if it wasn’t asked. She mumbles something to him, words quiet but harsh. Coach doesn’t say anything but grumbles and the issue is dropped. 

A couple of minutes of silence passed at Nick finished with the first aid and Ellis finished his beets. The crew was silent as Nick helped Ellis to his feet, taking the weight off of his bad ankle and escorting him back to their shared room. Ellis was sat on the bed gingerly and Nick sat next to him quickly after he had set the hick down. 

“I like ya a lot, Nicky, an’ it’s hard ta come ta terms with when my mama said it ain’t right by God. Ah wanna like ya, and every bone is tellin’ me to kiss ya all tha time, but my noggin says it ain’t holy,” Ellis takes a deep breath in and is cut off by Nick kissing him again.  
“Don’t worry about it, hick, and let yourself be. It’s the goddamn apocalypse. If there was a God to tell you who to love don’t you think he’d have stopped all this shit by now?” Nick posed a legitimate question, one Ellis couldn’t answer despite his Christian upbringing. Ellis leans in to initiate the kiss for the first time, pushing Nick back on the bed with its force.

Nick tenses before relaxing, guiding the hick by his hips onto his lap, careful of his ankle. The gambler's hands don’t leave the young man's hips, instead leaning back as Ellis bends down to kiss him again. The amatuer kiss gets Nick going like no woman has, and he grinds his hips up into the bumpkin, coaxing Ellis’s mouth open to let his tongue explore. Ellis leans back and takes a deep breath, eyes glossy and mouth slicked with spit. His skin is flushed and rosy, his chest rising and falling quickly.

“Well shit, ah got it right! Yer all hat and all cattle,” He says it with such confidence and Nick doesn’t try to decipher what it means. 

“Well c’mon cowboy, giddy up,” the conman says it with a wink and smile before pushing him back onto the bed and taking control, “you’ll ride me some day, Slick, when we’re out of this shit hole.”

Ellis pouts at his accent being made fun of but quickly forgets when Nick grinds his hips down and into his pelvis. He lets out a gasp and blushes red, looking away from the older man.

“Butter my butt and call me a biscuit,” are the only words from the hick for the rest of that morning.


End file.
